Of Faithful Bondage
by MaraudersAffair
Summary: Lupin and Snape meet in parochial school, but don't become friends until they study to become priests. Snupin. Dark fic.
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: **This was written for Anglo Don Juan back in December for the Snupin Santa exchange on livejournal. A great thanks to my beta, Marauderswolf! I warn that if you have something against homosexuality and religion mixed, don't read.

Lupin stared down at a table created to look like a smaller version of the altar, eyes shifting over the silver chalice and paten placed on the linen corporal. He closed his eyes and hung his head, hands coming together at his waist in a light grasp. After a moment he lifted a hand up and blessed each object, muttering _Blessed be God forever_ to himself. His heart beat loudly in his ears as he tried to remember the next step, silent anger forming because of his wandering mind.

_I need to do this right_, he thought, twisting his eyes closed again, trying to dislodge the memory of the night before from his mind. As if to rebel, an image of Snape flashed before his eyelids, face flushed from arousal and dark eyes round with excitement. A pale chest accompanied the face, and Lupin couldn't prevent himself from biting his lip in secret satisfaction.

Suddenly the lines came to him. _In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen _Then: _Pray, brothers and sisters, that our sacrifice may be acceptable to God, the almighty Father._

He muttered the audience's response to himself. "May the Lord accept the sacrifice at your hands, for the praise and glory of his name, for our good, and the good of all his Church."

He paused, then took a deep breath. Time was running out for Lupin, his future and maybe the salvation of his soul lay in his hands, important decisions waiting to be decided. What he had done was immoral, not right -- Lupin didn't deserve to become a priest, but what to do with his life? He had never considered a different profession, and what about Snape? What if Snape still decided to go through with it? How could he after what they had done.

Opening his eyes, Lupin stepped away from the table and unbuttoned his clerical robe, allowing it to fall to the floor. He stepped out of it, a pressure suddenly escaping his chest, and bent over to bundle it up. He looked around, half expecting God's own eyes upon him, and limped out of the room, an unsettling excitement surging through him.

Lupin needed to find Snape.

**XXX**

The cross is wooden, hard and cold. It's attached to string, cheap and white. The beads that accompany the string are black and small. A small, pale hand clutches it. The veins in the hand are blue and slow from the weak heartbeat.

This is what he remembers. This is what he imagines.

Lupin is a child -- no more than seven or eight. He is pale and small, just like his mother's hand. He sits on his knees, the cold floor numbing his flesh, his bones aching. He watches his mother and she, in return, watches him. The rhythmic movement of her chest is slow and erratic. Her eyes are dulled, course and dead. Her mouth is parted slightly, wisps of air flowing through her chapped lips.

_Mum_, he wants to say, but can't seem to find the courage. _Mum, what is happening? Why do you look so sickly? _

She turns her head against the pillow, eyes suddenly focusing. She tries to lift up a hand, to beckon him forward. She wants to speak with him.

The man in the corner is stern, yellow and unforgiving. He walks to the bed and bends over for her to whisper in his ear. He nods once and looks to Lupin.

"Remus, come here. Closer, so your Mother can speak to you." His voice is raspy and cold.

Lupin is shy, timid and scared. He limps over to the other side of the bed, afraid to approach but forcing himself to do so. He smells the medication ointment and the musky scent of unwashed linen. His heart beats rapidly in his chest.

"Darling," she manages to whisper, "be a good boy, promise?"

Lupin nods.

"And --" she begins to cough deep, biting sounds. "Remember --- remember that God will always be there for you. _Remember_."

Lupin begins to cry. His cheeks redden and the salty tears sting his skin. He doesn't want his mother to die.

"Remus, Remus -- I love you."


	2. Chapter 2

Two boys stood under a tree, facing the school yard. One was tall, blond and confident. The other was weak, small for his age, and his shoulders were slumped in a submissive way.

"What's the matter with your foot?"

Lupin blushed deeply, then tried to hide his club-foot behind his other leg. "Nothing," he mumbled, unable to look the boy in the face.

"Why is it bent like that?"

"I was born that way."

"Oh," said the boy, his blue eyes curious and excited, as if he looked upon a sea creature. "They couldn't fix it?"

"No," Lupin said, then reddened even more, "we hadn't the money."

"Oh." The boy seemed at a loss of words. "I'm Charles. Charles Benky."

"Funny name Benky," Lupin said bluntly. He was unaware of the proper etiquette of conversation.

Benky seemed hurt. "I can't change it -- what's it to you?"

"N-nothing," Lupin stuttered, suddenly aware of his mistake. He looked down at his hands. "My name is Remus Lupin."

Benky laughed. "Remus? And you laughed at me?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean anything by it."

"Sure you didn't."

"Promise I didn't."

"All right."

**XXX**

Lupin came to St. Andrew's parochial school when he was eleven years old. Cold, strict and taught by nuns, he found it hard adapting to the new life style. Not that living with his pious uncle had been any different, but he had never been around other children before. It was strange, terrifying, and nothing like he had expected. The other children were distant; he was unable to relate to their childhood experiences and common games like football, and they, in return, were unable to accept his club-foot. Whenever he limped around the yard, students would hurry away, trying to escape an awkward confrontation with Lupin.

Not that he would ever find the courage to approach them anyway. He cringed at the thought of having to speak with someone other than his uncle. His uncle had been the only person he had conversed with, the only one who seemed to care about Lupin's well being. After his mother had died, he was left an orphan and sent to live with the man he had only known as "Uncle Philip". The man seemed to think of Lupin as a burden, so there was no surprise when he had decided to pay for Lupin's board and schooling at St. Andrews.

The first weeks had been almost unbearable, until by chance, Lupin met Benky and clicked instantly. Benky was the sort who liked to be in charge, the one to say the orders, and Lupin was happy to carry them out. He was grateful to have a friend, surprised that anyone could look passed his deformity and consider him an all right bloke.

Though he had a desperate craving to learn, Lupin found it difficult to excel in his classes. The moment an instructor called on him, asking a question that was very easy, Lupin would turn bright red and begin to stutter.

"Come on, boy! Speak up!"

The pressure was too great -- he could feel, or so he thought, everyone's eyes burning into him, and his mind and body would automatically shut down, his mouth tightening up, his back arching into a stone-like form. He couldn't look anywhere except his desk.

"You are uncooperative, Mr. Lupin! Ten points off!"

The instructor would then turn his attention to another student. Those moments were embarrassing to Lupin, and he hated himself for his inability to speak. What was wrong with him? Did somehow his club-foot affect his brain, causing him to be "uncooperative" and "undisciplined"? Did he somehow commit a crime against God before he was born, or maybe it was his mother, for she had died young, who had sinned.

_No_, Lupin thought suddenly, _I will not think that -- she was pure, so pure. Mum couldn't have done anything wrong._

The thought stayed with him, though, and it grew when Lupin sat in the yard alone, watching the others play and run around. Problems, socially and personally, seemed to not affect the other children. Lupin began to despise them, jealous of their ability to run and answer questions correctly, to connect with each other and not feel so lonely. 

The October air chilled him and chapped his cheeks, the thin cotton of his uniform and shabby coat doing very little to keep him warm. He stood, wrapping his arms around himself and began to cross the school yard. His shoulders trembled slightly, and his breath made white puffs in the air. As he walked, he was unaware of three boys following him, his head turned downward and eyes focused on the ground.

The tallest boy of the group rounded on Lupin quickly, then stopped and kicked a leg out, tripping Lupin as he walked by. Unprepared, Lupin fell without the support of his hands to stop him, his face smashing into pebbled ground and scraping his arms and knee. His club-foot bent in an almost disgusting way, the ankle twisting inward, a position that would have broke a normal foot. 

Laughter met his ears, and he reddened from embarrassment and anger. As he struggled to his feet, someone kicked him again, this time in the stomach, and he fell once more to the ground, moaning softly.

"Oh, no you don't, cripple."

The word sliced through Lupin, and he lay face pressed into the cold dirt. He heard them circling him, like ravenous dogs and his heart pounded in his throat, warm tears stinging his eyes. _Why me_? He glanced up, and saw a boy with pristine features, his face flushed and jeering, gray eyes round with excitement. Another boy stood next to him, with glasses and a long, straight nose. 

"What do you think we should do with him?" asked the bespectacled boy.

"Leave him alone, maybe?" The voice was angry.

Lupin looked to the side and found Benky standing not far away, his hands clenched into fists and raised in the air. 

"You wanna fight?"

The two boys laughed, and looked to the third one, who had grown quiet.

"Oh, don't be afraid, Peter. Benky over here isn't gonna hurt you."

"It's not that," responded Peter, his voice almost squeaking. "The yard monitor is coming over." He pointed a finger to across the yard.

Sure enough, a nun by the name of O'Hara was striding toward them. Lupin struggled to get up, his arms and legs shaking. Benky walked over and held out his hand to help him.

"What is going on here? Students say there's a fight." O'Hara looked down her nose that them, her old and flabby neck skin wiggling as she spoke. 

"N-nothing is wrong," Lupin stuttered, as he tried to cure his nerves. "We were just playing and I tripped."

Benky gave him a nasty look.

"Should we call the doctor?" O'Hara asked, glancing down at Lupin's foot.

Lupin smiled faintly. "No, no." 

"Oh, well -- be more careful next time!" She looked to the tallest boy. "Black, put a coat on! You will freeze to death!"

"Oh, bugger!"

"Don't talk to me like that, Black!"

As O'Hara walked away, Benky glared at Lupin and yelled, "Why did you do that for!"

The boy with glasses stepped in. "He just didn't want to get anyone in trouble, that's all. Nice bloke, this one is." He turned to Lupin. "My name is James Potter, and this is Sirius Black, and Peter Pettigrew."

Wrapping his arms around himself, Lupin looked up at Potter hesitantly. "Why trip me, though. I did nothing wrong."

"Oh, come on -- we were just taking the piss. You aren't hurt."

Lupin rubbed his face with a hand. "I guess not, no."

"Yeah," piped the boy called Black. "It's all fun. You wanna sit with us at mass today?"

"Come on, he's not a fool!" Benky said, clenching his teeth. "You three are snots!"

"I wouldn't mind, no," Lupin said, turning to Benky. "Join me. It'll be fun."

"I say, you are a fool." The voice was astonished.

"Oh, leave him alone," said Potter, stepping in front of Lupin. "He can do what he pleases."

"Like follow you beasts around? No, thank you!" Benky turned on his heel and walked away, face red in the morning sun. Lupin couldn't tell if it was from anger or the cold.

"So, you still want to?" Potter smiled at him.

"Sure, yeah."


	3. Chapter 3

Friends like the three boys came once in a lifetime, or that's what Lupin thought, as he happily followed them around. They were rambunctious and uncaring -- Lupin saw their actions as gallant, adventurous, but he never forgot the day he was tripped. He was hesitant to join their many ventures outside, into the surrounding woods around the school, across the permitted area. Not that he was nervous of getting caught, only that he wouldn't be able to keep up.

Potter and Black seemed to have abundant energy, and could play in the heaviest of rains, in the thickest and coldest snow. Pettigrew and Lupin tried to keep up, but with Lupin's club-foot and Pettigrew's heaviness, they didn't fare so well. Lupin was always self-conscious of his foot, of his inability to run or even walk quickly. He limped around, forging a sense of equality, but knowing all along he could never compete with normal boys.

Through this haze of friendship, Lupin thought himself happy -- but there was something wrong, something deep in the back of his mind, growing as the weeks, months passed. A sense of indignation had formed, pulsing with a self-hatred that a boy such as Lupin couldn't escape. Why had God done this to him? Why couldn't he run like the other boys? Why couldn't he play, _live_ like them. They were happy, and he was not. Why did such a thing have to affect him, not say Potter or Black.

One day after a lesson he thought to ask Sister O'Hara, but instead changed the subject to a plan he had been forming.

"If you, if you ask God for something, would he give it to you?"

O'Hara gave him a startled look, then continued to collect the writing boards. "If you believe in all your heart, yes, He will. One must be committed completely for Him to answer our prayers."

"Oh," Lupin said, before limping away to his waiting friends.

That night, when all the other boys had fallen asleep, Lupin crawled out of his warm bed and kneeled down on the icy floor, pain shooting through his legs as his skin came in contact with the hard wood. He grasped his hands together and closed his eyes, saying a silent prayer.

_Now I lay me down to sleep,_

_I pray the Lord my soul to keep._

_And in the morning when I awake,_

_help me Lord, the path of love to take._

He had already said it before with the other boys, but he didn't know how else to began his prayer. Clutching his hands tighter, he began to ask God to make his club-foot whole. As his lips moved silently, he imagined himself running with Potter and Black, jolly and without problems. His mind wandered, and he suddenly saw his mother waiting for him, a bright smile on her face. She held her arms out to him, inviting him into a hug and he gleefully accepted, running into her and wrapping his arms around her waist, holding her tightly and making the decision to never let go.

A shearing pain erupted in his knees, and his eyes snapped open, suddenly aware of his surroundings again. Crawling to his feet once more, Lupin rubbed his aching joints with a hand, the skin sensitive from the brutal cold. He smiled faintly, for he knew God would help him, would make his foot normal. Soon he would be running faster than Potter and Black, and they would be the ones calling to slow down, out of breath. . .

Weeks passed and Lupin continued to pray every night after the other boys had gone to sleep, for he didn't want them to laugh at him. Soon the idea of his foot becoming whole consumed Lupin, and he prayed to God every moment he could get. At mass, the prayers before meals, in the shower, when getting dressed. An obsession came over him, and he was unable to think about anything else. If he just believed in all his heart, if he really wanted it -- then God would give it to him. Wasn't that what Sister O'Hara had said to him? Lupin wanted it -- desired to be normal above everything else.

Christmas was approaching and he knew if he prayed enough, he would wake up on Christmas morning and find his foot whole. He set his mind on the date, thought he saw symbols everywhere he went -- the number twenty-five followed him. God would grant his wish, and maybe Lupin would be able to try out for the football season in January. It seemed too simple, until finally, Christmas day arrived in a snowy storm of hope.

He lay in bed that morning, unable to open his eyes, the thrill of finding his foot normal overwhelming him. Even as the other boys jostled and yelled about presents, Lupin didn't move. Finally, before Sister O'Hara would come in to scold him for staying in bed, he cracked his eyes open and wiggled his feet. Deep disappointment settled within himself as he felt the deformity of his foot, and he even had to reach down, feeling his foot to make himself believe.

God had not helped him. Lupin must have disgraced him, must have, for nothing else could explain why. Angry tears began to roll down his cheeks, and he rolled to his stomach, smashing his face into the pillow and sobbing freely.

"Lupin, are you in here?" called O'Hara, walking into the room with her dress shuffling on the floor. "Still not up, you lazy boy." She stopped suddenly when she saw that Lupin was crying. She walked over to him and sat down gently on his bed. "Remus, what is wrong? Do you miss your uncle?"

He couldn't respond, the utter depression of the situation inhibiting his speech. He just wanted to be left alone.

"Remus, do you want to telephone him? Wish him a Happy Christmas?"

Unable to think of anything else, Lupin nodded silently, his face still pressed into the pillow. Embarrassment shot through him as he pulled himself up, not looking O'Hara in the face. She helped him put on his slippers, and they walked down to her office, where Lupin sat in a chair while she dialed for his uncle.

"Yes, Philip Lupin, please." There was a pause, then O'Hara looked to Lupin and handled him the telephone.

"Hello," he said weakly, his mind still hazy from crying, his temples pounding.

"Remus, is that you? Why are you calling?" His uncle still had the same stern voice.

"I - I just wanted to wish you a -- Happy Christmas."

"Oh, well, that's very nice. Very nice. I must get back to work now --"

"Uh, Uncle. Can I ask you something?"

His uncle sighed loudly. "Yes, yes -- what is it?"

Lupin glanced at O'Hara, then turned his back to her. "If you ask for something, desperately you want it, and God doesn't give it to you -- Why is that?"

There was a pause. Clearing his throat, his uncle finally answered, "It must have been because you didn't deserve it, Remus. Now, I must go -- bye, bye."

"Yes, bye," Lupin said to no one, setting the phone down and covering his face with his hands.

"Now, don't you feel better?"

Lupin nodded. He stood without saying a word and limped back to his dormitory.

**XXX**

"Who is that?" Lupin asked Pettigrew, pointing to a boy Potter and Black were circling.

"Snivellus," Pettigrew answered, his breath coming fast. "No one likes him."

Lupin stared at the boy sprawled on the ground, his hands covering his head as Black began to throw rocks at him. Pettigrew let out a gleeful laugh.

"Why don't they leave him alone?" Lupin whispered.

Pettigrew eyed him. "Because," he began after a moment, "he's greasy and not like us. He's a freak."

Stepping away from him, Lupin couldn't help but feel anguish for the one they called _Snivellus_. It could easily have been him in that position.

"I'm going to get you -- both of you, regret everything!" yelled the boy, his face consumed by what seemed like madness.

Black laughed outright, his voice high and childish. "Yeah, yeah. What are you gonna do, wipe your nose on us?" Potter and Pettigrew laughed with him.

Feeling sick to his stomach, Lupin turned away and moved to the other side of the yard. He spotted Benky and waved for him.

"I say, how have you been?" Lupin asked, grinning at Benky.

Benky nodded, but looked over Lupin's shoulder. "Are they doing it again? That Snape boy has done nothing to them."

Lupin didn't look. "Yeah, I know -- but, look -- do you want to play some chess with me?" _Anything_, Lupin added silently, _I don't want to see them torture that boy_.

"No, I think I'll have a talk with those bastards over there."

Without hesitating, Benky walked passed him to across the yard. Lupin had to admire his courage. He stopped near the scene and said loudly, "What has he done to you!"

Potter and Black looked at him and rolled their eyes.

"Nothing, really," said Potter, "He was just born, you know?"

Benky turned bright red. "Leave him alone or I'll make you!"

"What will you _do_ to us? I'm so scared!" Black spat, his face growing angry and eyes darkening.

"I'll make you wish you were never born."

"I wanna see you try."

At that, Benky rushed at the two of them, colliding with Potter and Black and knocking them to the ground, punching Black hard in the face as Potter rolled to his feet and tried to yank him off. Benky held fast, and his fist hit Black's nose with a _crunch_, blood spilling down his face.

"Get off me!" Black yelled, his hands clawing at Benky's face, nails digging into the skin.

"Uh, here she comes!" Pettigrew yelled, pointing anxiously across the yard.

Lupin saw O'Hara and he began to limp across the yard, his foot dragging behind him. When he approached, O'Hara was already dealing out the detentions.

"I've had enough of you!" she yelled, pointing a fat finger to Black and Potter. "Always in trouble, I doubt they won't expel you for this! Confession, both of you. Now!" She turned to Benky. "Why must you always stick your nose in where it doesn't belong? Detention, tonight -- after dinner!"

Pausing, she wiped a hand across her forehead. She then looked to Snape, who was huddled on the ground. He saw her and turned away, wrapping his arms around his legs and pulling them to his chest.

"Are you hurt?" she asked him rather coldly.

He shook his head without looking at her.

"Good, but another fight -- and you will have detention! I don't care who starts it! Come on, now -- you three!" She took Potter and Black by the collar of their shirts and pulled them to the church, Benky following behind with his head turned downward.

Lupin felt breathless from the commotion and anxiety of the situation. Taking a deep breath, he glanced down at Snape and found the boy's eyes on him, dark and mysterious. He reddened considerably.

"What are you looking at?"

Snape looked away quickly. "Nothing," he mumbled.

"Bad luck, this whole thing. Sorry about it."

"You have no reason to apologise," Snape huffed, his eyes focusing on the ground.

"Do you want me to help you up?"

"No."

Lupin reddened even more. "All right." He hesitated, then turned away, limping toward the church. He would wait until Potter and Black came out.


	4. Chapter 4

Years passed, memories faded, and Lupin began to ignore his friends' frequent bullying. He was seventeen at the moment, taller with awkward long limbs, but still desperately shy. His club-foot had grown stronger, allowing him to keep up with his friends. Well, at least when they walked.

Seated on his bed, he finished an essay on the Knights Templar, his history book resting on his thighs and his hand scribbling quickly over the page. Pausing to think, he looked up to see Black standing in the doorway, hand clutching the frame over his head. He leaned in, spotted Lupin and then smiled broadly.

"What are you doing?"

Lupin smiled back, then turned his head away and placed his book and essay to the side. "Nothing, I suppose. You?"

Shrugging, Black walked to the bed and sat down next to him, close enough for their elbows to brush. "Eh," he said, gesturing to the essay, "I've already finished that thing. Dunno why you are putting so much work into it."

Lupin blushed slightly, suddenly aware of the other boy's proximity. "Well," he said, swallowing thickly, "I find it interesting."

"What do you find interesting about it? The wealth, murder, what they did to one another?"

His cheeks reddened even more. "Oh, those are just lies. No historical proof."

"Doesn't matter_. I _like it."

"Like what?"

Black looked at him, and gave him a sly smile. "What they did together."

Stunned embarrassment rushed through Lupin, and he coughed, moving away from Black. Almost smirking, Black closed the gap between them once more, his shoulder pressing into Lupin. "Maybe I can help you," he whispered, his breath hot against Lupin's cheek.

Lupin shivered, then gasped aloud as he felt Black's hand snake up his leg. He jumped up, heart drumming in his chest, his breath coming in quick stabs, and stared down at the floor, too embarrassed to look Black in the face.

"I - I," he stuttered, unable to form his thoughts correctly, "I need to go."

Limping to the bathroom, for his anxiety didn't allow him to slowly exercise his foot, he closed the stall door and leaned against it, closing his eyes as light sweat formed against his forehead. His heart seemed to be stuck in his throat, pounding with a ferocity Lupin had never felt before. Through everything, a deep arousal began to form in his groin, echoing his heartbeat.

What had just happened? Black surely hadn't been _flirting_ with him, had he? It was wrong, the whole thing -- but why then were his trousers becoming uncomfortably tight? Why was he reacting this way? Lupin slammed his head back against the door, rocking it and a slow pain erupting in the back of his head.

It was wrong, immoral! Lupin shouldn't even think about something like this, nothing could be worse. _Nothing_.

**XXX**

A few days later Lupin sat with his friends at their usual table for breakfast. Today there were eggs and sausage, but before the students could begin to eat, O'Hara led the group with a prayer. Lupin bowed his head, clasping his hands together and murmuring the words along with her. Potter snorted into his milk at him, amused by Lupin's pious ways.

Once they finished, he nudged Lupin and laughed, "Straight to Heaven, this one." The boys laughed with him, and Lupin couldn't help but flush.

"I wish I could be that dedicated," Black said suddenly, looking at Lupin, his eyes gleaming with an unfamiliar emotion. "Dunno, but none of it ever stuck with me."

Lupin shrugged silently, then began to poke his eggs with a fork. "I've always been like this, you know that."

Leaning over, Potter clapped him on the shoulder. "And that's why we love you."

Lupin bent his head even further, but not before he glanced at Black. The boy was smiling cheekily at him.

"Mr. Lupin, if you please."

Looking up, he saw that O'Hara stood next to the table, pointing a hand to the door. "What is it?"

"A word, please."

A combined "ooh" erupted at the table, and Lupin felt his face grow even more flushed. Following O'Hara, her very big behind rippling through her dress, he averted his eyes and watched the floor tiles as he walked. He was surprised when they didn't stop in the corridor, but kept going until they had entered her office. Another boy sat in one of the chairs in front of her desk, a long sheet of black hair obscuring his features.

Lupin gasped quietly, recognising him as a frequent victim of his friends. Embarrassment surged through him, and he didn't look at Snape as he sat down in the chair next to him. From the corner of his eye, he saw the other boy tense, obviously aware of Lupin's presence, though his eyes remained focused to the floor.

"So," O'Hara piped, sitting down with much commotion at her desk. "I've brought both of you here because I feel you have the most potential. Students like yourselves don't come around very often, you know -- ones who seem generally interested in God's message." She paused, then pointed to a kettle on her desk. "Tea?"

"No, thank you," Lupin managed, but noticed that Snape merely shook his head.

Nodding, she continued, "Have either of you thought of going into the church, professionally I mean?"

"No," Lupin answered, perplexed by the question. He looked to Snape.

"Yes."

O'Hara smiled broadly at him. "That's very good, Mr. Snape. It's what I want to ask you about. There's currently two positions open at a church not far from here, with great chances of being incardinated -- after practice and serving the church, of course."

Snape was now looking at O'Hara directly, his eyes wide and gleaming almost in a fanatic way. "When can I start?" His voice was soft.

O'Hara laughed. "When you leave school. Months." She looked to Lupin. "Could you be interested?"

He froze, his mind racing and his heart thundering in his chest. He had never thought about going into the church -- would he like it? "I don't know. I would have to think about it." Pausing, he began to wonder where else he would go. The only thing he knew was the church and what it offered. Unlike his friends, he didn't have great ambition for the future. Who would want to hire a cripple, anyway?

Sudden fear leapt inside him. He would have nowhere else to go after leaving school. No money, no family -- his uncle would never allow him to stay with him. He didn't have money for University, no obvious scholarship. What would he _do_?

"Wait," he said, his voice high, "I changed my mind. I'll take the position."

O'Hara beamed with excitement. "This is just wonderful!" she said, clapping her fat hands together. "Wonderful!"

Snape stared at him from the side, his eyes turned downward but still focused on Lupin. He felt incredibly unnerved with the boy's eyes on him, and he shifted in his seat, trying to mask his discomfort.


	5. Chapter 5

"Let's have a drink!" Potter yelled, holding up a bottle of cheap gin. "Last day of school. Last of freedom for Remus over here!"

Black laughed as he leaned over the bed to punch Lupin in the arm. "Yeah, dumbfuck."

"Ouch," Lupin said, rubbing his arm, but not able to mask his smile. "Yes, let's."

"Oh, no!" Potter said, dropping down to his knees in mocked shock. "The virgin is deflowered!"

Lupin's cheeks reddened, but he smiled nonetheless. "You are right, though. It is our last day -- night."

Retrieving four tumblers from under his bed, Potter passed one to each boy, pouring himself a great deal with a devilish grin on his face. Without hesitating, he quickly swallowed all of the contents of his drink, then promptly began to cough. The boys laughed at him, and Lupin looked down at his own tumbler with a grimace, tasted it, then decided to set it aside. It was disgusting.

"I wonder how much we can drink before we get pissed," Black said, imitating Potter and draining his tumbler in one gulp. He twisted his eyes closed, then opened them, smacked his lips and looked at Lupin. "You're not gonna finish yours?"

Lupin shook his head.

"Give it here." Black waved a hand to the tumbler.

Lupin didn't move, so Black leaned over him to grab the gin. Lupin could feel the boy's breath against his cheek, their chests almost touching. He gulped, then gasped and tried to lean as far as possible away from Black. The other boy didn't seem to mind the proximity, though -- he stared down at Lupin with a slight grin on his face, his upper teeth poking through his lips.

"You don't mind, do you?" Black said, his voice lower than usual. Lupin shook his head violently, his stomach twisting into knots. Something like arousal coursed through him. Black smiled and allowed his fingertips to trail down Lupin's chest in a secret gesture. It meant the world to Lupin, and he closed his eyes, trying to dislodge the image of Black naked and kissing him from his mind.

"Stop it, will you," Lupin managed, his voice barely a whisper. He choked down a sob when he saw Black's expression turn slightly, like stones with jagged edges.

"You know you want it," Black whispered back, his voice a bit louder. Lupin looked to Potter and Pettigrew, but they were playing cards and unaware of the situation. As if to read his mind, Black added, "They don't care what we do, you know that."

"No, I don't." Lupin turned his face away.

"Look at me," Black commanded, grabbing his chin and forcing Lupin's eyes on him. "I've seen the way you look at me, I know how you feel."

"You don't, you don't." Lupin felt tears burn his eyes. He had no idea how to react.

"Yeah, Sirius, you wanna play cards?" Potter asked.

Black released his hold on Lupin's chin and jumped away, his expression almost nervous. "Yeah, yeah."

Lupin slumped against his pillow, drained from the emotional confrontation. He wanted nothing more than to roll into a ball and wrap his arms around himself. What was wrong with him -- why, for heaven's sake, was he reacting to another boy like this? He knew Black -- he had been friends with him for years, so why, all of sudden, did the boy make his stomach flutter in that way. Why did his mouth became dry and his palms sweaty?

He rolled over and smashed his face into his pillow, calming his breathing and heart beat. He couldn't face the world, and soon he felt his eyelids become heavy, and he was asleep. He dreamed of his mother, then of a blackened cross, then of bare-chested boys, until he felt a strong hand on his shoulder, shaking him.

"Remus, wake up. Wake up."

Lupin said something indistinct and cracked his eyes open, blinking up at Black, his face mere inches away from him. Lupin gave a quick start, gasping loudly.

"What are you --"

"Shh!" Black whispered, covering Lupin's mouth with his hand. "You'll wake them."

Lupin twisted away from him, closing his eyes and pressing his face into the pillow. "Don't," he whispered, his voice weak.

Black seemed to not hear him as he pressed his forehead into Lupin's shoulder, his fingers tracing Lupin's neck and behind his ear. A moment or two passed, then he began to mouth kisses along Lupin's neck, moving up to his jaw. Lupin made a noise in the back of his throat, and he tried to push Black away, but the boy was too heavy.

_This is wrong! What will God think of me?_

"St--STOP IT!" Lupin screamed, shoving Black off the bed. "Leave me alone!"

Black stared at him from the floor, his face etched into angry lines. "Fine, then," he said through clenched teeth, as he crawled to his feet and walked over to his bed. Lupin turned his back to Black, wiping hot tears from his face. He was glad that he had decided to go into the church, for he would be away from his friends.

**XXX**

The house had a strange silence, the rooms empty and only the sound of shuffling feet came from the kitchen or living room. Lupin was anxious as he sat next to Snape, the cushions on the couch straining under their weight. There were times that he felt Snape's eyes on him, but he didn't dare to look at the other man. He tried to hide his club-foot behind his leg, but he knew Snape could still see it.

An old woman, who introduced herself as Mary, had gone to fetch the keys to their rooms. Both men didn't speak, and the loss of her presence was felt greatly by Lupin. Once their arms had brushed on accident, and it forced Lupin to swallow thickly, his head fogging.

"We should take our tea together," Lupin said abruptly. "If you like tea, that is."

"I like tea," Snape answered quietly. Lupin thought he detected sarcasm in his voice.

"Mornings would be best, but lunch is fine as well."

"I don't like the morning."

"Oh, well," Lupin said, suddenly anxious to end the conversation, "lunch then."

"All right."

Mary bustled into the room then, holding up two small keys. "Had a bit of trouble, but I found them. I'll show you to your rooms."

Lupin tried to pull himself up, but Snape was already on his feet and holding a hand out for him. He blushed deeply as he allowed Snape to help him up. They walked next to one another, following Mary and their shoulders sometimes brushing. The rooms were very simple, with a plain bed and wardrobe, and a small window covered by a thin white curtain. Cool air blew into the room, and Lupin closed his eyes briefly, enjoying the breeze on his cheeks.

"The bathroom is just down there," Mary said, pointing a finger down the hallway. "I make dinner myself, but you will have to make your own breakfast and lunch. The money for food is taken out of your pensions, unless you want special items like chocolate or ice cream, then you'll have to buy that on your own. You see?"

Lupin and Snape nodded. Mary inspected them both, her wide eyes moving rapidly over their forms.

"It's a slow, unattractive life. We don't even have a tellie, but you both agreed so I expect you already know that."

"Thank you very much," Snape said, reaching a hand out toward her. She took it with a smile on her leathery face.

**XXX**

The morning sun streamed into the small kitchen, warming Lupin and the room which surrounded him. His first night had been strange -- he awoke numerous times, confused and disorientated, unable to recognise his surroundings. A sense of panic engulfed him, until he realised what had happened. The bed had been creaky, just like the worn floorboards. He sat with a steaming cup of tea in front of him now, his hands wrapped around the chipped porcelain. A faded floral print wrapped around the rim, and Lupin stared at it each time he took a sip.

Footsteps echoed above him, and Lupin drew in a quick breath, readying himself for Snape's presence. He had no idea why he acted the way he did -- becoming anxious whenever Snape was near him. When he thought about it, he wrote it off as remaining guilt from the days he stood by and allowed his friends to torment Snape. There was movement on the stairs, and Snape walked into the kitchen, already clean and presentable. Lupin had just put on his clothes from the day before, planning to bathe after his morning tea.

"I thought you didn't like mornings," Lupin said quietly, not looking at Snape.

"I don't." Snape walked over to the kettle and poured water into a cup, searching for the tea leaves.

"They're right here." He motioned to the canister next to him. Snape glanced to where he was pointing, then looked up into his face. His eyes focused on Lupin's and it made him shift in his seat, embarrassed by the man's intense gaze.

"Well, sit down, if you want." Lupin couldn't believe his own bravery.

Nodding, he carefully pulled the chair out and sat in an almost delicate fashion. He reached over and grabbed the silver strainer, his long fingers wrapping around the chain. Lupin tried not to stare.

"You don't mind, do you?" Snape asked, holding up the strainer.

Lupin shook his head. "No, we're drinking the same tea."

Nodding once more, Snape traded staring at Lupin for watching his hand stir the strainer around in his cup. Lupin sighed quietly and turned his head to look at the wall opposite them, his insides turning and regret filled him for even asking Snape to have tea with him. Would it always be this awkward? Snape seemed to be the only person he would have contact with for a long time. Other than the priests at his lessons, none of his other friends had seemed interested in visiting him. Would he always be this lonely?

Snape took a sip of his tea, then grimaced. Lupin jumped at the chance to say something. "Hot?" he asked, the question bollocks to even his own ears.

"Obviously."

"Oh." Lupin gulped down some of his now lukewarm tea. "What made you take the position?" The question was very random, and Lupin tried to fight the burning in his cheeks, but lost as Snape raised his eyes to him.

After a moment of silence, Snape answered quietly, "The same reason that you did."

Lupin was skeptical. "How do you know why I came here?"

"You had nowhere else to go."

"Neither did you?"

Snape sighed loudly. "No, of course not."

"Why not?" Lupin bit his lip, embarrassed at the abrasiveness of his question.

"My parents are dead. Aren't yours?"

"Yes, father died before I was born."

"And your mother?" Snape's voice was quiet, almost gentle.

"Tuberculosis. I was seven."

"Oh," Snape said, taking another sip of tea, "that's very unfortunate."

Lupin didn't want to pry, but he was curious. "What about your parents?"

"Father died in the mill when I was twelve, mother soon after." It was strange that Snape's voice never wavered.

Lupin didn't know what to say. "I bet it was hard on you."

Shrugging, Snape said, "Not really. They weren't the best parents."

The silence stretched on. Finally, Lupin asked, "Would you like to take walks with me in the evening? I don't walk fast, but it would be good to have someone to talk to."

Snape stared at him for a moment. "That would be fine, but not tonight. I need to read."

"All right, tomorrow. What are you reading?"

Snape smiled. "The Bible, of course."


	6. Chapter 6

The sun was warm against his cheeks, light sweat forming along his hairline and under his arms. He walked slowly next to Snape, grateful that the other man hadn't protested to their speed. They spoke very little, both enjoying the wilderness around them and immersed in their own thoughts. The silence was peaceful, not awkward and Lupin sighed with satisfaction as they sat down on a bench. The wood was cracked in numerous places, barely able to hold their weight, but it was just another sign that many people didn't walk the same path.

Moments passed until Lupin asked quietly, "Did you like St. Andrews?"

Snape shrugged. "It was similar to anything else I have experienced. Cruel."

Lupin gulped, his throat suddenly dry and raw. "They weren't very nice to you."

"No, they weren't," Snape responded dryly, knowing whom Lupin meant.

"I couldn't stop them, you know."

"Coward," Snape said, his voice barely a whisper. "You could have, but you were afraid of losing their friendship."

"I -- " Lupin began, unable to form his words correctly. Snape was right. "I'm sorry."

Snape snorted. "I don't need your pity."

Clenching his hands tightly in his lap, Lupin hung his head, the soft burn of embarrassment on his cheeks. It was a feeling he knew well -- why did he always have to fuck things up?

"Do you read?" Snape asked abruptly, his facial features set in firm lines.

Relieved, Lupin responded, "Yes! Very much!"

Snape eyed him, then reached into his pocket, pulling out crumpled paper. "Let me read you something."

"All right."

Clearing his throat, Snape began, his voice finally possessing emotion, "_After all, it's not my fault. I can't force myself to believe. If there is a God after all and He punishes me because I honestly don't believe in Him I can't help it._ What do you think of that?"

"Who wrote it?"

"Maugham -- W. Somerset Maugham."

Lupin thought for a moment. "Are you saying that you don't believe?"

"I struggle with my faith," Snape answered slowly, his eyes focused on the ground. "What about you?"

Pausing, Lupin sighed and tilted his head toward the sky, staring up at the clear blue. "I remember when I first came to St. Andrews. Jealousy consumed me -- just look at the friends I had, all perfect." From the corner of his eye, he saw that Snape was now staring at him. He laughed without humor. "That Christmas I prayed constantly for Him to cure my foot. A little boy's foolish wish, but I believed, I truly believed it would happen. Got on my knees late at night, skin burns like you can't imagine. Then Christmas morning came and of course nothing happened. Such disappointment and anger and hatred for God. I don't think I have ever gotten over it, you know?"

There was silence, then Snape asked, "Why are you here?"

Lupin clenched his teeth, ancient anger forming inside him. "Nowhere else to go."

Snape chuckled without humor. "What a pair we are."

That night, Lupin and Snape sat at the kitchen table, eating toasted bread and butter. The telephone in the other room began to ring, and Lupin raised himself up to answer it. Snape lifted up his hand and wiped his mouth with a napkin. "No, I'll get it." He walked into the other room and there was a distinct "Hello", then "Who is this?" His voice sounded angry. "Right, right -- Lupin, it's for you!"

Lupin carefully pulled himself up, then limped into the other room. Snape's harsh expression met him, and anxiety surged through Lupin. "Who is it?" Snape didn't answer, only stepped forward and handed Lupin the receiver.

"Hello?" Lupin asked, staring at Snape.

"Hey, Remus, how has it been?" Black. No wonder Snape was so mad. "Sirius," Lupin said, turning his back to Snape, his voice excited, "I'm doing fine. How did you know where to telephone?"

"Just asked O'Hara. I want to come up."

"Oh," Lupin answered, his stomach dropping. "I - I don't think that's such a good idea."

There was tension in Black's voice. "Why not? Who's there?"

Pausing, Lupin thought of lying. "Snape, do you remember him? Severus Snape."

There was a scratching noise. "WHAT? SNIVELLUS!"

"Yeah." He could feel Snape's eyes on him. "Yeah, it wouldn't be a good idea for you to visit."

"What? No, no, I can visit and then we can have some fun with him."

Lupin's hand trembled. "No, no, that's over, Sirius. I don't want anything to do with that." Breathless, he couldn't believe what he was saying.

There was clear anger in Black's voice now. "All right, fine -- choose him over me, I see. It doesn't matter that he's a slimy git and I'm your best friend."

"Yes," Lupin managed, his mind spinning. There was a click, then a dial tone. Black had hung up on him.

"Well, is he coming?"

"How did you know?"

Snape shrugged, his face still set in angry lines. "I know Black."

"Oh," Lupin said, feeling defeated, "no, he's not. I don't think we are friends anymore."

"_Friends_?" Snape crossed his arms over his chest and stared at Lupin. "You -- I mean -- you weren't -- "

Lupin had never seen Snape at a loss of words before. It astonished him. "What are you getting at?"

Looking down at his feet, Snape said quietly, "Lovers, you weren't _with _Black?"

Lupin stared at him. "What? Of -- of course not! What would ever give you that idea?"

Shrugging once more, Snape kept his face turned downward. "You just seemed -- close."

"I cant, I mean -- no, there was something, but not what you think."

Snape blinked. "Are you gay?"

The question surprised Lupin. He stepped back, sucking in air with a quick breath. "I -- I dunno."

Something flickered in Snape's expression, but it was soon replaced by cool indifference. He closed the gap between Lupin and himself, standing quite close to the other man. Lupin swallowed thickly, his tongue sticking to the top of his mouth. He drew in a deep breath and smelled Snape's natural scent, a musk that made Lupin's stomach twist violently, a deep arousal forming in his groin. Slowly raising his hand to his cheek, Snape brushed his fingertips against the soft skin. The touch was gentle, but erotic and Lupin closed his eyes in shame.

"D-do you think this is wrong?" he breathed, looking up into Snape's face.

Snape paused, his dark eyes burning into Lupin. "I don't know, but I - I don't think so."

Not understanding his actions, Lupin stepped forward and pressed his lips into Snape's, a timid brush of smooth skin. He felt his face redden as he waited to see Snape's reaction. Hesitating, Snape seemed shocked, staring down at him with wide eyes. Moments passed, then Snape wrapped his arms around Lupin's waist and pulled him closer. He bent his head and captured Lupin's lips in a deep kiss, almost forceful in his movements.

Lupin gasped and parted his lips for him, clutching at Snape's shoulders with his nails digging into the tender flesh. He twisted his eyes closed and tried to push away the guilt forming within his stomach. How could he deny something that felt so right? Kissing Snape just seemed like the best thing to do, the man's arms around him comforting and warm.

"I heard the telephone. Who was it?" Mary's voice stunned Lupin and he jumped away quickly, staring down at his feet as Mary walked into the room. Snape's eyes were unreadable, but his cheeks were flushed, his chest beating up and down.

"No one of importance," Snape answered, striding past Mary to the stairs. A few moments later Lupin heard his door close softly.

**XXX**

There was knocking on his door, each thump of knuckles against the wood slow and gentle. Lupin's eyes flickered open, and in his disorientation from sleep, slight anxiety ran through him. Why would someone call for him at such a time? Moving slowly, he crawled out of bed and walked over to the door, his bare feet numb against the cold floor.

Cracking the door open, he saw Snape staring back at him, a strange look in his eyes. "W-what's wrong?" Lupin asked, puzzled.

"May I come in?" Snape asked quietly.

Lupin blinked at him. Then he remembered. "Oh -- uh, yes." He stepped aside and allowed Snape to pass him. Snape was still wearing his clothing from the night before. "You haven't gone to bed yet?"

Snape shook his head, turning to look him in the eyes. "How could I? What happened today."

"You mean yesterday. It's two in the morning!"

Ignoring him, Snape spun on his heels and looked around the room, staring pointedly at the bed. It seemed as if he shuddered a breath. "I've been aware of you for quite some time. Ever since I saw you that first time, you have always struck me as someone different, someone like me." He paused, glancing over his shoulder to see Lupin's reaction. "Now, to think we could have something, I mean -- what happened today was -- evidence. Are you following me?"

Nodding, Lupin felt his lips numb, unable to speak. Finally he found his voice. "You mean -- we should continue _this_."

"Yes, I suppose. I mean -- I want you. Right now."

Lupin's mouth went dry. "You mean sex."

"Yes."

Shaking his head, he felt as if his heart would explode in his chest. "I don't -- but how?"

"You don't know how?"

"I -- no, I don't." Lupin's face burned with embarrassment. He was unable to meet Snape's gaze.

"Let me show you." The words were barely a whisper.

Lupin gasped. "Have you ever -- "

Snape shook his head. "No, but I have a few ideas." He stepped forward and caressed Lupin's cheek with a finger, Lupin tilting his head toward the touch and closing his eyes in brief bliss. Lupin knew it was the right thing to do.

Stepping closer, Lupin kissed Snape softly, then deepened the kiss into a passionate duel of tongues. Snape walked Lupin backwards until his knees hit the edge of the bed. They toppled onto the soft blanketing together, hands caressing and mouths exploring.

**XXX**

He stared at Snape's door, his heart pounding in his ears and his vision blurring slightly. He had limped back from the church, club-foot dragging behind him, mind racing. The clerical robe was still bundled in his arms. He heard rustling inside the room, and the noise created a thick pain in his stomach. What was Snape doing in there? Did he regret what they had done the night before? Taking a deep breath, Lupin knocked swiftly on the worn wood, his knuckles numb from the anxiety.

There was brief silence, then: "Who is it?" The voice was hard.

Lupin took a deep breath. "Uh -- it's me, Remus."

Cracking the door open, Snape peered at Lupin, his eyes dark. "I'm leaving," he said abruptly, his voice terse and his cheeks reddening. "You obviously know why."

Time seemed to stop. Lupin stared at him, unable to accept reality. Finally, he said softly, "If that's what you must do."

Snape gave a quick nod, then widened the door. Lupin saw that he was holding a suitcase. He gulped. "Maybe we can talk about it? I could be the one to leave."

"No. I'm the one who began it. I'm doing this to save my soul."

Lupin blinked at him. "I don't think your soul is in danger. I sort of like your soul."

Snape's stony expression didn't change. He looked away from Lupin, then walked by him and down the hallway in one swift movement.

"Wait -- can I write to you?" Lupin asked, following as quickly as he could. "Just to know how you are doing?"

Stopping abruptly at the stairs, Snape looked over his shoulder at Lupin, his profile protruding. "If you desire to do so." He then turned away and descended.

Lupin didn't follow. Limping slowly to his bedroom, he fell to his bed and smashed his face into his pillow, allowing himself to cry freely. He should've never allowed himself to be tempted by Snape -- now both were in danger and God's anger rained down upon them. That's what it felt like to Lupin -- heartache and dead, he felt as if he could never move from his bed.

Somewhere a car door slammed shut, then the sound of wheels moving on gravel. Lupin bit his lip and twisted his eyes closed. He wondered what he would do with his life now.

The End

Author's Notes: Thanks so much for all the reviews! I'm glad readers enjoyed this little fic -- I wrote it last year under a tight deadline, and now I have to fight the urge to continue it from where I ended it. I just wouldn't be able to manage. --counts fingers-- I currently have five fics coming up, so be on the look out for those! Again, thanks so much for reading!


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